


Anniversary Cake

by DoubleL27



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Anniversary, Boys In Love, First Year of Marriage, Grand Gestures, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Finale, Romantic Gestures, So Married, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:47:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26638315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoubleL27/pseuds/DoubleL27
Summary: Patrick returns home from working the store by himself all day on his first wedding anniversary to the surprise his husband has planned.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 41
Kudos: 199





	Anniversary Cake

**Author's Note:**

> It's my one year ficaversary! I posted my first fic in a LONG time, one year ago today. In that time, I have completed and published 47 different works on AO3 for Schitt's Creek (one is hidden in Elevate!Femmeslash), for a total of over 220,000 words, tens of thousands of hits, so many kudos, and enough comments to make a girl so pleased and proud.
> 
> I want to thank YOU, the most responsive fandom I have ever known, the best group of people. My writing continues because this is a community that invests in each other, uplifts each other, leaves comments and kudos and always wants more cake. 
> 
> A major thanks has to go out to my betas throughout the past year: banayingbituon, RhetoricalQuestions, this-is-not-nothing, SunlightSymphony and elswherefumbling, who all make my writing infinitely better and have encouraged me. Thanks particularly to RQ and SS for the beta on this one.

The key fits into the lock and turns with a quick snick. Patrick often thinks the giddy feeling he gets, when the key turns and the door swings open into their house, is silly. David has been in his life for years now and this home isn’t the first thing they’ve made together, but entering through the back door leading from the mudroom to the kitchen is such a familiar, homey feeling that never gets old.

Patrick makes a rather loud production of putting down the case of wine he brought in. He stomps three times before taking off his boots, stowing them carefully in the cubbies. He huffs, stripping out of his jacket and hanging it up on the hooks a vendor made for them, then steps through into the kitchen. 

“Hey,” David says, his voice a whisper.

The kitchen is decorated in white ranunculus and jasmine, with twinkle lights - a lovely recreation of their wedding day. (Coincidentally, even the beadboard cabinets are similar to the town hall.) The lights are low. David is standing in the center of the kitchen, wearing a sweater that Patrick has never seen before. It has a floral pattern that reminds him of a fairy garden glowing in the night, occasionally fading in and out of view, that David has paired with his ubiquitous skirted joggers. David’s smile is small but infinitely affectionate.

David is the center of his world and Patrick gives in to the gravitational pull of loving David. He crosses the room and allows himself to be enfolded in his husband’s long arms. This is home. His lips seek out the tender spot just under David’s jaw and Patrick delights in the shiver it elicits from David.

“Is all this why you made me work the store _alone_ on my anniversary?” Patrick asks, unable to keep from teasing. 

David’s huff is audible in his ear, as David pulls back. “Okay, one it’s _OUR_ anniversary,” David reminds him, punctuating it with a smacking kiss. “And two, yes, we have a store to maintain and you just-just do it so _well,_ and I-I wanted _to_ treat _you_ for once.”

David’s lips are tucking in at the corners, clearly amused with himself and the whole situation. Patrick cannot keep his hands from running over the incredibly soft fabric of the fairy garden sweater. Patrick tilts his head, unwilling to give this one up. “I’m just saying, David, you could have sent me to get a massage. Something that would have actually been a _treat_ while you arranged things here.”

“Mmmhmm.” David slides out of Patrick’s arms, eyes narrowed. “I feel like treats are fully within the purview of tonight. Champagne?” He plucks the bottle up from the marble wine chiller they tested for the store and shows off the label. David’s eyebrows do that thing as he licks his upper lip before sinking his teeth into the bottom lip. 

Fuck. There’s something so beautiful about his husband. “With the _Ch_ instead of a _Zh_? Always.”

David hums, passing Patrick one of the flutes that graced their wedding table, before carefully popping off the top of the champagne. He pours them each a glass. 

“Only the best,” David says, leaning in to steal a quick kiss. “Happy Anniversary.”

They saya quick cheers, as they clink their glasses together. Memories of deflating and slightly cold Mozzarella sticks, soft smiles, and nerves on fire dance in Patrick’s mind.

David takes a sip and the laugh that escapes matches the bubbles making their way down Patrick’s throat. “For the piece de resistance.”

Patrick finds himself taking David’s flute without question when it’s passed to him. David walks behind him, his hands stroking over Patrick’s shoulders until they perch, one on each shoulder, as they make their way out of the kitchen. It’s easy to be guided by his husband’s careful plucks and pushes. He carefully moves the gauzy curtains out of the way, and steps through. The dining room is decorated with even more flowers, to the point that Patrick realizes that the items in the kitchen are the overflow. 

David pulls the chair out with a flourish. Patrick sits, as prompted by David’s hand pointing at the seat. Being the one who is taken care of in these little chivalrous ways took time to get used to, but Patrick loves it. There’s a joy in having a partner who wants to care for you in large and small ways. They care for each other, he and David. 

David flits over to the cake stand that, according to Patrick’s husband, is _surprisingly tasteful_ considering it was a gift from Patrick’s cousins. His heart swells as David lifts the glass bell to reveal the carefully preserved top of their three-tiered wedding cake. It’s a “naked cake” according to David and the baker, because it’s not fully covered in frosting. Patrick just liked the taste of the citrus olive oil cake. The berries that cover the top have been freshly added, he knows, because they’d polished those off at three in the morning on their wedding night.

“Really, David? Cake for dinner?”

David’s hands dance over the cake as if he’s casting some sort of spell. “Umm, this happens to be an anniversary tradition I can get behind. Also, I have shown incredible restraint in not eating it in the twelve months since we have been married. When you went to that business conference out in Ottawa and stayed with your parents, there were some _very_ dicey nights where I was tempted to eat this all by myself. It was _quite_ dark.”

“That must’ve been scary for you.”

David ignores him and continues, “Besides, wood,-fired pizza should be here shortly.”

“Napolis doesn’t deliver here, David.” 

David sighs, lifting the knife to cut through the cake. “Stevie has graciously agreed to be our delivery person on her way back from one of the motels. That’s what the case of wine I asked you to bring home is for.”

“That’s quite a hefty tip, David.”

“Here,” David redirects, cutting a slice of the cake and handing it to him.

Patrick waits for David to serve himself a piece and sit down before he uses his fork to separate a bite. They’d tried so many cakes before David had settled on what he wanted, and a few more tastings afterwards just for the free cake. On their wedding day, the cake was perfect. Patrick was very surprised at David wanting to save any of it, but even his mother looked at him with wide eyes when he said they could just order another cake for their first anniversary.

The citrus flavor is still bright and the sponge still springy. Patrick looks at David, “This is surprisingly good for being in the freezer for a year.”

“It’s all in the preparation. Many, many layers, starting with cling-wrap before moving to foil and then bags. Absolutely no cardboard. And keeping it away from smelly things.”

“Is that why you have been very concerned with the organization of our freezer since we moved in?” Patrick says with a chuckle, and then catches the very serious eyes of his husband. Patrick uses his fork to carefully cut off another sliver of the cake. “I mean, it was totally worth it, David.” 

And the thing is, it tastes just like it did on their wedding day. David knows how to make everything an event. And somehow, Patrick managed to make this magical man fall in love with him. Here they are, in their own home, but David has transformed their dining room with the hand-me-down table from Patrick’s grandmother into a space of wonder.

The sound of stomping and doors slamming breaks the spell only a little. Stevie’s voice is just shy of a shout when she says, “Your pizza is in the kitchen! I’m taking the wine!”

About seventeen emotions flit over David’s face before he settles on annoyed. He keeps his voice light, though, as he calls back, “Umm, Stevie, there is a platter on the kitchen counter. If you would just carefully position the pizza on it as per the diagram.”

“Thanks for the wine!” Stevie yells back, and the side door slams shut.

“Stevie!” David calls after her, voice strangled. 

“I’ll go plate the pizza, David.”

David's hands lift as fists and come back down to the table in a rush like synchronized divers. “ _No!_ This is _my_ chance to do something for _us_ and _Stevie_ is being ridiculous.”

Patrick swallows his lips to keep his smile inside. David has done so much for them tonight, this is the least he can do, plate the pizza and not debate who the ridiculous one is. “It will be okay,” he promises, pushing his chair back to stand. 

_“Will it?”_

“ _Okay,_ David.” Patrick wraps a hand around the back of David’s neck and presses a kiss to his husband’s forehead. “Eat your cake.”

The pizza placement diagram is even colored in with the colored pencils David keeps in a drawer for no one else to use. Patrick carefully follows it, laying the slices of pepperoni pizza from the first box and mushroom from the second in an alternating pattern. Before he brings it back, Patrick slides over to his desk and picks up his “Taxes” folder. The envelope inside doesn’t look like David has found it yet. 

When he takes the platter of pizza back into the dining room, Patrick feels ridiculously pleased as he slides the envelope out from underneath, causing a bright light to spark in David’s eyes. 

“Happy Anniversary,” Patrick says, his voice cracking despite himself.

“Patrick,” David breathes, high pitched and wide eyed. “We agreed on no presents.”

They had. There was the house and all the things that came with making it into a home. There was the store and all of the dreams and plans they had for it. There was the trouble of keeping both of their ancient cars on the road in spite of Bob’s ‘help.’ But doing things for David, giving him gifts, never gets old for Patrick. Not since the first time he filled out the incorporation papers for Rose Apothecary. 

Besides, his husband is a hypocrite.

“So, I’m hallucinating the florist’s shop our house has turned into?”

David’s face shifts again, transforming into a proud, haughty statue. He sniffs loudly. “Ronnie helped. Anyways, this is an experience, not a gift. We agreed.”

Patrick doesn’t blink. “Open it, David.”

One of Patrick’s favorite things about his husband is how his face tells a story. David’s eyes are already wet when he slides the card out of the envelope, mouth still suspiciously smirking. Within moments, David’s eyes go big and his mouth turns into a small o. Patrick was very pleased with himself when he found the artist on Etsy who would custom-make personalized cards with portraits you had sent in. Patrick knows there’s a stylized portrait of the pair of them at the altar that had been created at the front of the Town Hall. His eyes soften and so does his mouth, tucking back into that infinitely affectionate smile. David’s mouth trembles as he reads, and Patrick is certain he’s hit the mark. 

When the card opens, the paper tucked inside flutters down into David’s lap. 

David picks it up in carefully pinched fingers. He flips it open, eyes scanning the words. When he looks up, his hands and voice are trembling. “What?!”

“Two tickets to New York City,” Patrick confirms, “round trip, for Christmas. Your parents have agreed to come. Apparently Sunrise Bay will shut down for the week anyways.”

“Patrick!” David cries.

Technically, Patrick thinks, this is also an _experience._ He stands and goes to his husband, sliding in between David’s trembling arms, card and paper in each hand. He slides into David’s lap. Patrick kisses David’s cheek. “Your dad is planning to throw a Christmas party for the Rosebud Motel Group, so Stevie will be there too.”

“I thought we were going to your parents’ house?” David asks, baffled tears falling down his cheeks.

Cupping David’s face in his hands, Patrick uses his thumbs to wipe away the tears. “We’re going to my parents’ for Thanksgiving and we’ve barely seen your family since our wedding. You wanted me to see New York. Show me why you liked it.”

Patrick is still not sure he believes that David actually liked New York City, but he’s willing to go for a visit. He’s going to see what the fuss is about and see the Roses, who are a part of their family that he misses now. “It’s not a gift, it’s an _experience._ ”

_“I fucking love you,”_ David says, before pulling Patrick into a crushing hug, their teeth clicking as their lips meet.


End file.
